


Someday

by Illegible_Scribble



Series: 31 Days of Frodo/Sam, 2018 [19]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Established Relationship, Fake Dating, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Pre-Quest, Smoochtober 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 15:46:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16349555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illegible_Scribble/pseuds/Illegible_Scribble
Summary: “I wish I could kiss you with such ease when other eyes are there to see.” Though May was a blessing to dispel ill rumors, there were occasions Frodo spited the time they had to share, feeling it nearly a taunt that he could not have it with Sam. “I want to, someday. Only...” he held on to Sam as though he might suddenly disappear, “only it frightens me so terribly.”





	Someday

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this prompt](https://www.pillowfort.io/posts/132744) for Smoochtober 2018, #19: Fake Dating Kiss.

It was gentle and quick – chaste and lifeless, even, but that was what it was supposed to be. Brief, and not for their pleasure, but for the eyes and approval of others.

Frodo knew he and Sam were very fortunate for this. Or, as fortunate as their circumstances allowed. Few others would've been willing to disguise such a scandal, and for so long.

May was much wittier and more brazen than Frodo had once ever thought the eldest Gamgee daughter could be, and for that he appreciated her more than he could say. It made all the parties he need bring her to, and all the afternoons they had to stroll the market together, just within the limit of tolerance. She might have been raised with less formal education than he or Sam, but her wit was as subtle and sharp as a sword, and she wielded it expertly.

Frodo supposed, that were his heart not already so taken with her brother, she would be a fine companion to share his life and home with. As it was, she was the best cover for Bag End's secret as they could ever hope for.

It was kept between them – only they three – for they couldn't risk anyone else learning of it, and so spreading it, even by accident. There were days Frodo was desperate to tell Merry and Pippin, but he'd later reaffirm to himself – as he always did – that as dearly as he loved them, their youth and pride made them liable to mention it offhandedly – and so loose it upon the world – if they accepted it kindly at all.

Thus, the secret was kept between them. Not the Gaffer, nor May and Sam's sisters knew, though it happened under their noses. For the moment, they kept it well, but Frodo's nights were often troubled by the fear something might slip out of place, and their carefully constructed mask would be torn off.

After more than a year playing at it, it had not become such a difficult mask to wear. Several days a week he spent with May, arms linked as they strolled the marketplace, exchanging cordial touches and chaste kisses for show.

At the least, May had become something of a celebrity among the unwed lasses of Hobbiton, holding a good deal of sway over the current trends – after all, what she wore was clearly favored by the wealthy, and thus so attractive. More besides – tiring though it was – it aroused no suspicion, or little enough anyway to protect them all.

Now, _every_ night made the weariness of the occasional daylight mask worth all its trouble. Every night he and Sam were free within the bounds of Bag End and its back gardens; free of prying eyes, hissed whispers and cruel gossip. Free to love with no barrier between, nor bonds restraining them (unless one asked specifically for the rope).

Reading to or with Sam, cooking dinner together, and bathing one another, before the blessed hours in bed prior to sleep, and lastly their precious hours of shared morning, were gifts he held dearer than any gleam of gold or glint of jewel. It had worked out so perfectly, when the Gaffer's joints prompted a lessening of hours, until full retirement, and it was decided it would be far simpler for Sam to live at Bag End all the time, to give its gardens the best care.

Only three souls alive knew it was not only the garden Sam tended.

Frodo tended to Sam as best he could in kind; making always time for them to share, listening at least as much – if not more – than he spoke, and doing what things he could to delight Sam with gifts, or take what burdens from him he could.

Frodo adored him. The only pain of his heart was that their true selves and their love were confined to the realm of Bag End. Laws were not writ to prevent it, and yet it was so uncustomary, laws might well be writ in the event it became public. Then, even if there were or weren't laws, individual opinions could quickly mount to the one of the public, and were it negative, it could prove very painful indeed.

“I'm not ashamed,” Frodo had said, curling up against Sam one night, “only I'm very afraid. I think it's easier this way, and perhaps safer. But I like it not at all.”

Sam wrapped his arms around Frodo, holding him tight. “I know.”

“I wish I could kiss you with such ease when other eyes are there to see.” Though May was a blessing to dispel ill rumors, there were occasions Frodo spited the time they had to share, feeling it nearly a taunt that he could not have it with Sam. “I want to, someday. Only...” he held on to Sam as though he might suddenly disappear, “only it frightens me so terribly.”

“Someday,” Sam promised, stroking his back soothingly, “don't know when or where, but someday.”

“You wouldn't think it terribly strange, would you?” asked Frodo of Sam's chest, beginning to cry. “It's only that it's never been done before – or seen, anyway. Why should it be scorned?”

They both knew the answer. There was no creature in the world that felt amiable about change, especially if it was a new sort it had never considered before – that made it alien and something to distrust implicitly.

Frodo pressed his face hard against Sam's chest, trying to seek comfort in hiding. “How could what I feel for you ever be something to scorn?”

As it ever was, when one of them began to cry, the other would as well – and so Sam began to weep in turn. “Right enough, I don't know. But- mayhap someday.”

That was what they held to, every night: someday. Someday, the world would change, or they would change, or... _something_ , would change, and they would have no more reason to be afraid.

Until that someday, Frodo and May kept up their act, while Sam projected a wandering eye seeking someone he didn't yet know. In daylight, the only safe touches were Frodo and May's endless dry kisses and cordial touches.

Someday, they would be safe with Sam.

Someday.


End file.
